Water Damage
by magical trever
Summary: House refelects on and comes to terms with the 'departure' of his patients, aided by one patient in particular and her taste in Tshirts.


**WATER DAMAGE.**  
By Megan the greatest.

_Pairing; House/Cameron (if you squint)  
A/N;Hey folks, its that time of the month again (no, not that time, don't be disgusting) for me to publish some House/Cameron goodness! Well, not for a bit sorry. Reviews: Are met with giddy dancing and manic laughter, so bring 'em on! (please)  
(Thanks to my friend Katy, she knows why. Fo' so')_

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"How does it feel when a patient dies on your watch, Dr. House?"

She was looking honestly interested, the machine beeping quietly in the background of their conversation.

"Don't really know to be honest. Its different each time." He looks thoughtful.

"Why? Surely it would be the same; after all, they're only patients, right?"

She watched him think for a long time.

"To me, each time is different. You can't mourn the same, can you? Different people, different times…"

_"But it is the patients you're mourning_?"

Her question stayed with him for too long. Afterwards he would drag himself home and sleep badly over it. Is he a good person?

He sits in with her the next day and she can't help but feel bad; he's come for answers she can't give. She becomes his therapist and there's a disturbance in the atmosphere around them.

He always brings gifts. Nothing sentimental, something comforting or practical. He knows the deal because he's been there before, sat on the bed, watching the days go by and the presents pile up that just reek of desperation. If she sees one more 'Get Well Soon!' relentlessly cheery bear on a card, she'll go insane. Who are they trying to kid? She's dying when they write the stupid cards, and she's dying when she gets them. What's the point? False hope is wasted on a cynic, or a stupid 15 year old kid with malignant brain cancer who was terrified of tomorrow, despite the ridiculous orphan song and the 'Tomorrow is a better day!' balloons, because tomorrow is actually just one more day of dying.

She feels like an atheist confronted by God, in all his pissed off glory. The heavens open up and it rains on her soul. Does her medical insurance cover water damage?

He gives her an answer one day while they're watching General Hospital.

"I mourn the failures in myself when life is lost. The patient is entirely secondary."

Her eyes don't move from the screen just like his, but her hand reaches across to his and she's suddenly pleased he thought about it. Is there some life in him yet?

He sits next to her bed while her hair falls out in her sleep.

She wakes up and tries not to cry but her throat is throbbing and her eyes are stinging and her breath is catching. She feels sick in a way that has nothing to do with the cancer.

Her brain is decaying so she broadens her mind. Books hide the answers so she looks, and every word looks different from this side of the mortality line.

He limps in and she's reading, so he picks up the book that's on his chair, and snorts. 'Chicken Soup for the Soul'. He all but throws it to the floor and picks up Wuthering Heights, because there's nothing quite like love to make a man feel depressed. She's not reading because she's watching him, and smiles when he drops the book she left for him like it was on fire. She falls asleep half way between Catherine's death and when she wakes up Chicken Soup For The Soul has vanished into House's car.

He reads the sentimental drivel and tries not to laugh too loud because the neighbours are scared of him already, and he doesn't need a repeat of last time Mrs. Rubes started an argument. The police only took her side because she was old. Bitch.

He reads on because he can't sleep and needs a good laugh, because he's not broken and he doesn't need fixing.

He finds himself over-tipping a waitress the next day, and she seems to know. He blames the book.

She just smiles when he makes a big deal about finding the book under her bed and laughs out loud at the thought of him watching the sunrise.

They stay up to 06:23am just to prove her wrong.

She wonders about heaven and hell, and will she make friends on the 'other side'? He snorts at her version of heaven because it sounds exactly like earth, and who in their right mind would reply this life if they had the chance?

She asks why he doesn't believe in God, and he asks how can she?

They were back in their usual sitting arrangement, with her in the bed and House on the chair with his legs propped up on her bed, and they were also back to watching General Hospital.

There's a big ass bag of Jelly Babies that they're both picking at, both amusing themselves by either creating Jelly Baby massacre scenes, or making them have sex.  
The episodes on today are all repeats, and they're watching, fascinated, as a half-brother and half-sister come to terms with the fact they're sleeping together and they're related, only to discover the girl's pregnant by her father's cousin's best friend's golfing partner, who, in reality, is her twin mother. Or something like that.

She looks over at him.

"But that makes no sense, she can't be pregnant by her own mother, especially after the mother's second sex change and her recent bout of tiny brain clusters! And besides, they're not really half brother and sister, they're biological triplets, the other brother is the father's cousin's best friend's golfing caddie" she points out, er, logically.

"How do you even know this?" he asks, and she smiles.

"The internet is a wonderful thing, my friend."

She smirks, and turns her attention back to the screen. All is quiet until –

"Hey! So the father's cousin's best friend's golfing partner who's really the mother of the triplets made her own son caddie for her?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

He chucks his cane on the nearest bed, which contains a coma patient, and he fishes out his bottle of pills and dry swallows two loudly.

"Some people have no class."

He's out buying something, he can't remember what, when he sees a book she always talking about but can't seem to find, so he limps into the antique book store and buys 'A Hundred Years Of Solitude' and gets it wrapped up. The card says 'Merry Christmas!' on it and he gets strange looks because it's the middle of July.

She makes a t-shirt that says 'I got send to hospital and all I got was this stupid t shirt and brain cancer'. House laughs like a drain when he sees it so she makes him one that reads – 'Some bitch betrayed me and all I got was this stupid t-shirt, a permanent limp and a severe drug addiction'.

He puts it on and enjoys the look on everyones' faces when they read it.

Stacy cries over it in front of him and he laughs loudly at the sight. What's her problem? He's not making her a t-shirt.

In return for the t-shirt, he makes a set as well – his says 'I'm in the cancer ward with baldy ->' and hers says 'I'm in the gym with the cripple ->' no one else seems to get it.

Why cry when you can laugh?

Everyone wants to go to heaven but no ones willing to die for it. Is she?

"I know that every second, every minute, every hour I sit here talking to you and not getting treatment brings me one more second, one minute, one hour closer to dying. But I've been thinking it over. If the cancer doesn't kill me the chemo will. With chemo, it's more like it brings me one hour, one day, one week closer to dying. Plus, I don't have that much hair anyway. There may be not dignity in death, but I don't want to meet my maker as a slap head."

Why does he feel so sad when he hears her give up? Hopeless despair thinly veiled behind desperate humour. That wasn't the girl he meet 2 months ago, who lent him books, tried to make him nice and stubbornly refused to cry, even when her hair was falling out and she was so tired she couldn't lift her head and she was in constant pain.

Her soul was dying, along with her body. Hope long gone, along with her sprit and her will to go on.

"HOUSE!"

He turns, half-smiles wanly and asks –

"Dr. Cuddy?"

"Where have you been? You've been paged three times! Three times! Do you honestly want me to fire you? You've been needed in the clinic!"

He looks supremely unimpressed. He hands travel down to his pants leg and he looks his tablet bottle, willing himself not to pop it open and swallow the whole damn thing, but he can't seem to find it.

He sighs loudly.

"I've been with a patient …"

Cuddy looks like she's ready to kill him with a spoon.

"Don't you dare give me that bullshit! Where have you been? Watching TV? Playing on your GameBoy?"

He suddenly realises he's about to snap, and he runs with it. His eyes cut to hers, stopping her mid-rant and all but snarls –

"I. Have. Been. With. A. Patient. Room 213. Girl of 15, brain cancer, malignant, terminal. She's given up and I was making sure she didn't kill herself right there, because god knows the hospital wouldn't want that."

His voice is pure venom, his eyes full of contempt.

She doesn't know what to say. Is he even telling her the truth?

A voice travels down the corridor toward them, breaking the tension.

"Dr. Cuddy, Dr. House has actually just with the exact patient he's just described. I think he was taking some extra history on her."

House turns to see Allison Cameron totally ignoring him, eyes fixed on Cuddy.

"House? Taking history?" She snorts. "I'm sure that's what he was doing. More like harassing some one new for a change …"

House's pager beeps loudly, he looks down and all but runs down the corridor.

"Cameron, get your ass here NOW!"

Cameron looks at Cuddy hopelessly for a moment, and then takes off after him.

House looks down at the bed, staring at the limp girl's body, the bottle of Vidocin still warm in her hand.

Cameron looks on, unable to speak, not knowing what to say.


End file.
